The Twilight Zone: Mr Bevis-Redux
by regertz
Summary: The TZ episode featuring the rather eccentric but lovable Mr. Bevis gets a bit of tweaking…But it's still Orson Bean (worth looking up his work on YT) in the character role.
1. Chapter 1

The Twilight Zone: "Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Summary: The TZ episode featuring the rather eccentric but lovable Mr. Bevis gets a bit of tweaking…But it's still Orson Bean (worth looking up his work on YT) in the character role.

Disclaimer: He may be dead but only Rod Sterling owns "Twilight Zone" and no copyright infringement intended.

"Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Submitted for your approval: In the city, in the year 1960, lives a certain gentlemanly young fellow named James B. W. Bevis. Scion of a noble line of men leaning to the eccentric or, in modern 1960 parlance, an oddball by most standards, whose tastes tend toward zither music, stuffed animals (both of the toy and taxidermy variety), model ships, professional football, Charles Dickens, moose heads, carnivals, dogs, children, the elderly, the hapless, and young ladies. A man accident prone, at times vague then profound then vague again, a little discombobulated, with a life that veers from disaster to near-death disaster. But the saving grace of J. B. W. Bevis is that he is one of those people who makes the world a better place for most by the warmth of his heart and possesses the family trait of what may be the truest courage…Unspoken, often overlooked, and always, utterly spontaneous. Dame Fortune has generally played him a rough game…But he is about to find that the Lady has a soft spot for J. B. W. Bevis, a soft spot, in the Twilight Zone.

The rooming house apartment of James B. W. Bevis…A comfortable enough place he secured, after losing his last apartment following a dispute over back rent spent to help a hungry homeless family, several stray dogs, and an elderly teacher stuck by a car and unable to pay her medical bills, on the recommendation put forward by an old college friend. The apartment, a simple affair of small kitchen, small living room/office, small bedroom made more comfortable by James by his massive collection of personal items collected throughout his rather curious life… An old desk bought at a yard sale and stained by James to a deep cherrywood…Covered or, littered, his disapproving landlady might say, with an assortment of oddities including a stuffed owl, several other smaller stuffed birds, several model ships, including a rocket ship, books on subjects ranging from philosophy, theology, and history to the works of Charles Dickens, to books on colonial cookery, how to speak Mandarin, how to tell jokes, and various comic books, three different antique clocks from various eras, a rock that might have been a meteorite, or not… On the mantelpiece of a false fireplace, a dangerously large collection of photos of family, friends, acquaintances, people met on the street who somehow seemed appealing to J.W.B… On the floor, bowls awaiting any number of stray dogs and cats who might or might not return, several throw rugs and bits of interesting carpet, several completely unmatching chairs bought or found and taken home on whim and fancy and what might be called a sofa of sorts… The walls covered in pictures from neighborhood artists bought when funds allowed to save the artist from starvation, or in some cases given with thanks for services rendered, or hauled out of the trash to save a work that caught James' eye for some reason no one else is liable to fathom and of course, more photos, including a number of the strays who'd been his guests at various times.

J. W. B himself enters from the equally cluttered bedroom, in a tearing hurry, seeking to grab some coffee from the antique coffeepot in the tiny kitchen, dressed in his trademark out of fashion suit and bow tie. Up very early to hear the birds and watch the dawn, a fascinating book on Japanese poetry has kept him a bit behind…

Gulping coffee and smoothing hair desperately he rushes out and begins downstairs, pausing to greet another tenant, a young woman who beams at him, returning the greeting effusively. Though not exactly enamored of him, it's hard for anyone who knows him for any length of time not to like J.W.B Bevis. She smiles to see him pause to pat and hug a small dog on the stairway landing, feeding him a treat that was probably his only breakfast… He hurries on but pauses to greet a young newsboy delivering papers who eyes him with glee as he stands at the top of the stairway, eyeing the bottom of the stairway bannister then back up to Bevis who nods and smiles, hopping on to the bannister and sliding down to him…

Overshooting the bottom of the rail and tumbling past the boy down the hallway and out the front door, down the stairs to the sidewalk of the street, the newsboy looking on in amazement as Bevis pulls himself to his feet, chuckling…

"Now that was a ride!" he merrily calls to the boy. "Have a great one, Sidney!" waving as he tries to smooth his hair…

Passing by the landlady, just back from taking out some trash. She meets his cheery greeting with a grim frown but says nothing… He remembering he is somewhat behind on rent, chooses to avoid conversation just this moment and hurries off with an apologetic wave, contenting himself with wishing her a very fine day as he hurries off to his car parked on the street. Pausing to greet, then merrily join a group of neighborhood kids at play, throwing a basket ball round. Noting that he's now really running late for the start of his office job at 9 am, he hurries off with a fondly returned by the kids, wave.

He can't help noting the sound of a vague sigh in the air…As if someone at his elbow has just issued a faint note of disapproval…

But, nonsense…No one around…He proceeds to his beloved and precious car, a 1926 lovingly restored (more or less, but at least it does run) Rickenbacker sedan. The kids hurry after, knowing from long experience that their friend is not only late for work but sure to be in need of help. A turn of key and crank does little to start the car and Bevis calls out to the kids who cluster round the old car taking positions…

"Ok, fellas…!" he calls and they push the car out into the street, the engine suddenly coming to life and sputtering…

With another wave, to the kids' cheers, he heads off…

Again a slight sigh...But then, a sudden giggle...As if someone trying to be stern and disapproving can't be help to be amused by the goings-on.

Nope...He looks quickly about as the car stops at a red light...He naturally slowing at yellow, despite a nervous awareness that the car might well stall. A fear almost confirmed as the car gives a slight hiccup...Prelude almost inevitably to a stall. But today, somehow, the engine catches again and the car continues on...

…

By any account the office tower in which Mr. Bevis' company the Peckinpaugh Corporation, resides is impressive, one of the largest in the city. And by any account, both Mr. Bevis' rather ancient car and not only out of fashion but never in suit and bow tie are impressive to both busy visitors to the tower and general passers-by in a negative sense… Several pausing to gawk at the strange fellow with the antique heap he pauses to polish lovingly, patting the car in thanks for bringing him safely to work. All who catch his eye receive the same cheery greeting, which, in spite of their momentary scorn...What's this clown up to?...Concern...Is this guy screwy?...Or mild amusement...There he is, again….Generally can't help but make their whole day just a bit better. On seeing him help a woman get a stroller over the curb and fondly greet a homeless man, slipping a bill into his hand, several are move to greet him in return.

Entering the office where he works at a rather mundane but reasonably complex accounting job...For, despite his eccentricities, Mr. Bevis is a math whiz and one of the best accountants in the city...He is deluged with warm greetings from his coworkers, but which greetings contain a cautious note of sympathy which he detects immediately from past experiences. Still, despite his misgivings he returns the greetings with equal or greater warmth and proceeds to his desk, a standard issue desk but one made his own in his usual fashion by the bestrewment of a wide and outlandish collection of objects...A stuffed parrot, a ship model...An antique, barely functional clock...An old fashioned notebox from an antique post office desk...An antique-style calculating engine modeled on a device of the 19th century designed by Charless Babbage and improved upon by one of his female heroines, Ada Lovelace. And of course the modern adding machine, pens, accounts book necessary for his daily work. Though he would argue the Babbage-Lovelace calcuting engine is faster and more accurate. He sits at desk and begins laying out his work implements but with a rising sense of dread fueled by the concerned looks coming his way.

"Mr. Bevis?" one of the coworkers seated behind him, an anxious expression on her face as he turns in his seat to smile at her. The brunette woman smiling back...For few can avoid smiling at J.W.B Bevis' warm and open face...But turning anxiously serious immediately. "Mr. Peckingpaugh wanted to see you as soon as you came in."

"Oh..." he nods, eyeing her drawn face. "Bad, huh? The sack?"

She gives the slightest of nods… "You'd better go in."

He sighs, rising… "Yeah...Thanks, Elinor..." and starts to move to the center of the rows of desks to proceed to the office door in the front of the main office "J. Peckingpaugh, President" firmly printed on the glass.

Before he can take more than two steps, that door opens with a breeze of musty paper and ink following...The stern features of J. Peckingpaugh, a tall, spare...Foursquare, they would have said in this era...Sixties-ish man grimly eyeing him.

"So. Mr Bevis." grim tone, flick of eyes to office clock then back on Bevis. "Glad to see you managed to arrive no more that two minutes late today."

"Sorry, sir. I had a little car trouble. But I'll make up the two minutes as always, sir."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Bevis. You're a good worker, true, but I'm tired of putting up with your odd ways...This museum of a desk..." Peckingpaugh sneers, indicating the cluttered desk… "Your playing of zither music tapes at lunch...And during work hours"

"Only at lunch and to cheer us, sir..." Elinor tries.

"Quiet! I know you're popular with the staff, Bevis. That and your competent work are two of the reasons I've tried to overlook your strange ways… "Gourmet lunches...Christmas carollers in the office...Parties for every birthday...Storytelling and jokes. This is a place of business, Bevis. I expect a certain tone in my office. Even if you do your work well, it sets a poor example. A poor example..."

"The clients like him too, sir..." Beverly, another young woman, can't resist making a plea that might find favor…

"That's enough! So they do...And the last of the reasons I've put up with you, Bevis. But time is money and entertaining clients in the office is wasting time." Peckinpaugh frowns. "I've had your last check and severance drawn up, Ms. Hodges has it down in payroll. Clear your desk and get out. Goodbye, Mr. Bevis."

He turns to walk into his office door, shattering the glass...Bevis rushing to him…

"Mr. Peckingpaugh? Are you alright?" he puts a hand out to steady the older man who glares and shakes him off.

"I'm fine! What are you still doing here?! I told you to go!"

"Yes, sir..." Bevis nods. "But you're sure you're alright? You weren't cut? Someone should take you to the infirmary in the Maquire office...Elinor?" he turns back, urging her to take the old man and perhaps cool his wrath towards her for speaking out. She sighs, reluctantly coming forward.

"I'll take you, sir." she offers.

"Fine. But I want you gone, Bevis, when I return. Luther? Have the janitor clean this mess up! And anything left on Bevis' desk in five minutes!" Peckingpaugh, annoyed. But just a bit stunned, allowing Elinor to lead him to the main office door.

Elinor? Bevis, a bit startled to hear a chuckling in the air...Followed by a guilty-sounding sigh.

Well, no...It couldn' be, she's clear across the room and leaving…

He shakes head then heads to desk…

Luther, the addressed middle aged coworker in the rear of the office comes to him, bearing a large box for Bevis to place his possessions. Bevis thanking him and wanly smiling at his coworkers, all to a man or woman looking sadly at him.

"It's fine. I understand...Please tell Mr. Peckingpaugh I hope he's ok." he loads up the box quickly if carefully and to the continuing sad glances, smiling… "Say, any of you ever in my neighborhood give me a ring and we'll get together." All nodding eagerly, some wiping tears…

"See you later..." he takes the box and heads back to the main door, Luther and several others hurrying to open it for him.

"Goodbye, Mr. Bevis...Keep in touch." Beverly calls. "I think I'd rather work at your new place, so let us know where you wind up!"

"I will, thanks Beverly...Everybody. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." he beams at all and heads out, straining with the heavy box.

…

Outside on the street, unbeknowst to Mr. Bevis, further disaster awaits…

He proceeds to his car but as he sets the large box down, it turns out the modern car in front of his has backed slightly into his own car and locked bumpers. Without emergency brake the car is hauled off and begins running, unlocking its fender from the modern car at the first turn as the driver speeds off. Bevis' empty car continues straight on, into city traffic, thankfully avoiding all other cars which dodge and weave it as well as pedestrians stopping to gawk at it and finally, hitting a curb, rolls sideways to a stop.

Bevis, running after, halts in shock but some relief to see no one hurt. A cop quickly hurrying to the overturned car eyes him with frown. J.W.B. sighs but proceeds to the car.

"Yours, huh? I saw the other car towing it, I won't charge you."

"Thanks. Glad no one was hurt."

"And no real damage except to it..." the cop nods. "You were lucky, friend."

"If you can call it that..." sigh. "I'd better call a tow truck."

"You'd better." nod. "I'll stick around a moment to see no one makes a false claim."

"Thanks. I don't suppose you'd be interested in a 1926 Rickenbacker?" he wanly smiles at the cop.

"No, I think I'll wait for the new 1927 models...I'll get a better deal that way." the cop grins.

Bevis proceeds to a pay phone.

Slight annoyed hiss in the air…

As if someone were annoyed not to be thanked…

…

Bevis' rooming house…

Coming to the stairs, having walked for many blocks, lugging his large box from the office, he is surprised to find his middle aged landlady lugging an equally large box to the curb…And sets his own down to offer her a hand...

Sadly, not surprised for long, as he spies his beloved stuffed owl at the top of the box, a wing and its head peeking out at the world, as if to ask not "Who?" but "What the hell?"

"Mrs. Glannon?" he asks, astonished…

"You're three weeks behind on rent, Mr. Bevis. That's all. I'm evicting you...Today...Now." she grimly notes as he moves to help her with box, gently setting it on the curb.

"But..."

"No buts, no excuses...It's not my fault you chose to help those people instead of paying me..."

"But I was going to pay you...Friday...Well, a week's worth at least."

"That's not three weeks...And now you've lost your job, so I hear..." she frowns.

"How did you know that? I was just fired today. Anyway, I'll get another..." She glares, waving him off.

"I heard it from a friend of you who called to see if you'd gotten home all right. I can't be dispensing charity, young man...And it's high time you learned you aren't JP Morgan and able to dispense it yourself. You can move your things to the storage closet on the ground till the end of the week and pay for that as well. If you don't come for them by Friday, they go out in the trash, anything I can't sell...Which, given this junk...Is everything." gimlet-eyed stare. "Don't say another word, I'm not simple-headed and I've not got the time." She headed off and went back up the stairs. He ruefully eyeing her.

"Well, till Friday then..." he sighs, grabbing a box and heading for the storage closet.

…

Noon…

Though it is an unusual time for him to be at his favorite neighborhood bar, given Mr. Bevis' employment history it is not unheard of…

He sits at stool eyeing himself in the mirror.

Well, I suppose it could be worse…

That it could...What if you had children to feed? A voice at his elbow…

He looks...No one...The closest person well to his right several stools away...An elderly gentleman in somewhat cheap clothes, nursing his one drink and clearly hoping to be treated as the day wears on.

"There you go..." The bartender, a heavy-set, balding, reasonably friendly if guarded man, eyes him…Setting six drinks in shot glasses before him on counter. "Something to fortify yourself, you said."

"Thanks. I need it. Oh, and please give the gentleman there another of what he's drinking, on me." friendly nod to the old man who beams at him. He takes the first shot...

"Hello, Mr. Bevis..." He looks to the old man expecting to see that he's an old customer known to him.

The man is eagerly finishing his earlier drink and awaiting his refill...No sign of recognition though a friendly nod of thanks.

"No, Mr. Bevis...Over here..." He looks back...No one...Puzzled, he looks into the large mirror behind the bar, to see a woman...Nicely dressed but curiously...Not that it bothers him but you don't see many young black women in this bar, in the middle of the day.

"Hello?" he looks back to the booth reflected in the mirror…

No one...Nothing but the booth…

He regards the mirror...No one in seat now…

Shaking head he eyes the row of drinks before him…

"Ed? What's in these?" he eyes the bartender…

"A bit of everything, Mr. B. You said you wanted to be fortified."

"I did. I guess I was..." he blinks, shaking head.

"Mr. Bevis..." plaintive tone. He looks in mirror to see the woman back in her seat. "Please. Come and join me. I need to speak to you."

Intrigued he looks back to seat...Nothing…

But she remains in mirror, waving now, when he returns to face forward.

Ooookkkk….He takes another shot, hoping it may reverse the effect…

Though it's not an unpleasant vision…

He rises with two of the shots and proceeds to the booth. Perhaps, if he takes seat, the vision will disappear for good, confronted by reality.

"Mr. Bevis, it's good to finally meet you in person." the woman now appeared before him, apparently, to his vision, now in the flesh. Nicely dressed though not too fancy, with a rather nice hat...Warm brown eyes focused on him, wide sparkling smile.

"I'm Aurora Winifred Hempstead." she offers a hand which he takes and allows his own to be shaken by. "Please don't be alarmed, it's not some effect of alcohol...Though you really shouldn't take so much at once, that's a very powerful mix. Nor have you suddenly gone insane, despite a very rough day. The explanation is very simple, really. I'm your guardian angel."


	2. Chapter 2

The Twilight Zone: "Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Summary: The TZ episode featuring the rather eccentric but lovable Mr. Bevis gets a bit of tweaking…But it's still Orson Bean (worth looking up his work on YT) in the character role.

Disclaimer: He may be dead but only Rod Sterling owns "Twilight Zone" and no copyright infringement intended.

"Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Part II…

The booth in Mr. Bevis' favored neighborhood bar…

Currently, to any bystander caring to look, occupied by Mr. Bevis alone…

But, to his perception, now occupied by himself and a quite attractive young woman of about her late twenties, dark-skinned in a way that in certain parts of 1960 America might cause her immediate ejection from the main room of such an establishment and even in Mr. Bevis' somewhat more enlightened home city was an unusual, if not unheard of, occurrence, made more so by the early hour.

Though he himself was less surprised by her appearance, or even her strange way of not being visible to his direct view, while perfectly visible in the barroom mirror, on two occasions, then by her seeming to somehow know him...In fact she seemed quite familiar with him, as if they'd been of long acquaintance. Yet he couldn't place her anywhere in his life. He'd had a few black friends in childhood, whom he'd played with, including a best friend at the time, long unheard from since his family had moved away, and two of the childhood friends had been girls...He'd likewise known a couple of black friends in college...Admirable people, very conscious of blazing a trail for others, and been proud to know them, and one had been a woman...And there were parents of kids he knew in the neighborhood with whom he'd developed a reasonably neighborly relationship, and exchanged house visits, even had them to a couple of his zither music recitals/house parties, and that had included a couple of young mothers and even a single cousin or two, brought along, but none named Aurora and he was sure none resembled this young woman.

Strange…

Wait...What had she called herself? He eyed her as she smiled at him...Warmth in the smile but a degree of amusement, he felt.

"You're my..."

"Guardian angel, Mr. Bevis." quiet smile. "I hope I've not startled you too much on what I know is a bad day for you."

"Uh, no...Not really..." he paused… "Though actually, yes...Yes, you have. I have a..."

"...Negro guardian angel." she smiled. "Though myself, I've always preferred black or colored. Black, really. Please tell me it doesn't bother you?"

"What? No… Oh, no...It's not that. It's..." he paused.

"The notion of a guardian angel?" she asked, politely. "I know you don't follow any organized religion, which I can understand, though I've been a Catholic, more or less, for many, many years..."

"Yes...Well...That's the odd thing. I'm not really much of a...Believer...In the traditional sense. So I don't really believe..."

"In guardian angels..."

"Yes...Of any color or creed or race...Yes."

"I understand completely Mr. Bevis." she smiled. "Yet I'm afraid it is true, there are guardian angels and I'm yours."

"Really?" he stared… "I mean I find it hard to believe in the general existence of angels, guardian or otherwise. I mean, if you did exist...And guarded people..."

"There'd be no suffering, no want, no unhappiness...Etc, etc, etc? Correct?" Ms. Hempstead smiled.

"Well, it stands to reason...Oh, I'm sorry, I'm being rude." he apologized. "Would you care for something to drink? Ed? Whatever the lady was drinking?"

"What?" Ed stared over to the booth occupied by Mr. Bevis alone.

"Oh, I'm afraid he can't see or hear me right now, Mr. Bevis." Ms. Hempstead noted. "Just tell him you were being funny and you'd like another of what you were having. I have my own, thank you." she indicated a mug, somewhat antique in style, that had just appeared on the table.

"I'm more of an ale person, myself." she took up the mug and swallowed a gulp.

"Ed, sorry...Just pulling your leg. I'll have just one more, thanks."

"Ok...Just don't overdo it, Mr. B." Ed nodded. "And remember, I'm here to talk to if you like."

"A very kind man in his way..." she noted to Bevis who thanked Ed.

"Ed? None better. It's why I like it here." Bevis agreed. "I'm so sorry if I seem a bit discombobulated, I'm not used to meeting guardian angels, mine or any other..."

"Oh, that's fine...And the usual thing..." Ms. Hempstead nodded. "I hope you understand I'm here to help, not add to your problems today of all days." warm smile.

"That sounds like you came especially today...Because of my job and so on…?" he eyed her.

"That's why I've appeared to you. Things seemed a little critical and I felt it was time to brace you up...Hopefully a little better than those odd drinks."

"Thank you..."

"You're welcome, Mr. Bevis." warm smile and nod. "Of course I hope you understand I'm not merely here to offer a comforting word. I've come into the open to help improve the quality of your life." firm nod.

"Meaning you've been around, guardian angeling me?" he stared.

"Perhaps not as effectively as I would have preferred, Mr. Bevis, but yes. I have been guarding over you for many years, unseen and unheard."

"Really? God, that's awful..." he eyed her crestfallen face… "Oh, no...No, Ms. Hempstead, right? No, I mean that you had to waste your life, watching over..."

Hey…

"That was you...Today, all day long...I was hearing...You."

Apologetically sheepish look from Ms. Hempstead…

"Yes, that was me. I'm very sorry, coming into your conscious reality is a somewhat slow process. But you mustn't feel I've wasted time in guarding you. I've been very pleased to do it...Both for my duty to your family and...For you." fond smile. "And I've enjoyed following the history of Humanity up close and personal for my own gratification of curiosity. It's been a rough haul but I've learned to rediscover hope. That's in part due to you and yours, Mr. Bevis." she took another long pull at her mug.

"That's excellent ale...From my favorite tavern in New Haven, Connecticut." she beamed.

"Me...And mine?" he stared.

"Your ancestors were exceptional men and women in many aspects of their lives, but nowhere were they greater than in their person al courage." she noted firmly. "I should know."

Fond beam at him…

…

1768…

The trading schooner Peckingpaugh, enroute to West Africa, trading in rum and household goods, trinkets to the colonial British sailors manning the vessels, but of incredible value to the local aristocracy, primarily the King of the local region, in exchange for various products of interest...Including ivory and native crafts, some valuable local crops...And perhaps, one other special commodity, though given the small size of the vessel, slaves could not be a major proportion of the cargo, albeit a most valuable one.

"Chief Officer Bevis!" a cry from the upper deck where Captain Peckingpaugh, a tall spare man in his early sixties, bearing a striking resemblance to his future descendant of 1960, looked out at the coast with a small handheld telescope…

"Aye, aye Captain!" Chief Officer Bevis, a young man in his twenties bearing a striking resemblance to his future descendant, had hurried to come from the rear of the ship to center deck to address the Captain.

"You think you can get us through the shoals to the coast, Mr. Bevis?" the Captain addresses him.

"Aye, sir...But I will require full authority over the ship till we reach the coast, sir."

"Granted...Just get us there, Bevis...Intact and not half my bottom ripped away...Neither my ship's nor mine, boy."

"Aye, Captain..." smart if nervous salute...Chief Officer Bevis hurrying up to the front of the ship and preparing several tools, of his own design to help the pilot in such situations.

"Bevis…?" another officer hisses to him. "Can you really get us through with those contraptions of yours?"

"I have done it on other coasts, Fields."

"Aye, but not here...If we go aground here..." nervous look. "We'll likely be in a cooking pot by nightfall."

"They might rob us...Kill us...Perhaps...Eat us? Unlikely, they're not known cannibals here. There is one thing, Fields." Bevis eyes the junior officer, a slightly older man, heavy-set.

"Why are we here, in these waters? Why do we need to go through these shoals? You've sailed with Peckingpaugh more than I...What's he about here?"

"Come, man, he's trading here. With a chief he's acquainted with. Who knows what's of value about. I know no more than that. Except that I don't understand the need to cross the shoals either. Seems the old man's in a hurry."

"Aye...But why?" Bevis frowned. "Fields?" he eyes the man. "I demanded of the captain when I signed on that he not be engaged in the slave trade. I don't truck with it and I won't serve on a slaver. Are we here for slaves?"

"How many slaves could this little boat carry, Bevis? And how would I know of the captain's intent? You've sailed with him a year, has he brought slaves across?"

"He's not sailed to Africa before..." Bevis eyes the man sternly. "Why are we here at all? You've traveled with him here, what's the trade that draws him here?"

"We took ivory back before, he's said it's ivory now. That's a valuable cargo. Now you'd best get to your work, if I may say so, sir and get us over these shoals. I beg pardon for being sharp, sir. I know no more." Fields, careful tone.

"Fine, go. And tell anyone worrying that we'll get through." Bevis nods, waving off Fields after the man's hasty salute.

I saved that one's life in mid-voyage last year and he's lying to me now. Peckingpaugh's promised them a share no doubt. Still, he can't honestly fit slaves aboard this ship, she'd never hold more than a dozen. Ivory's far more likely and valuable enough. But there's something to all this haste… And with the Crown tightening the screws and raising taxes on trade goods, there's new opportunities for sharp ones like Peter Peckingpaugh to make a half crown or two.

…

Fields just inside the closed door to the Captain's quarters...Peckingpaugh listening to him intently.

"He asked you if I was slaving?" Peckingpaugh eyes Fields.

"Aye, Captain. He said he'd had promise from you that no slaving would be done and said he'd never serve on a slaver."

"And you told him we sought ivory only here?"

"Aye, sir. But he seemed not to believe me."

"Yes, understandably. He's an intelligent man and you're a fool, Fields." sneer at the man. "But he said he'd get us over the shoals…?"

"Aye, sir."

"Bevis is a good man, but a bit of a boy still. I'd tell him the importance of this mission and try to explain it to him but he'd likely only see the small price we pay here. Well..." sigh. "Let him get us across and we'll deal with him. Perhaps he'll see reason. Carry on, Fields..."

"Sir." Salute.

"And Fields? Sniveling spying curries no favor with me. Expect nothing but what I've promised all of you from this. I already knew Bevis' likely feelings on the matter. Get on about your duties."

"Aye, sir." Fields, turning and scurrying off with a frown.

...

A rough night at anchor near the dreaded shoals but the next morning Chief Officer Bevis, true to his word, used his specialized equipment of plumb lines and a modified rigging to allow the ship to maneuver more deftly to cross the shoals and find security in a small but safe harbor. Placed in charge of the ship by Captain Peckingpaugh, he waited in anxiety for the return of a longboat bearing the captain and about ten men, nearly a third of the small crew. All armed with musket and sword… The boat weighted heavily with a cargo...As was a second, empty of men, boat, pulled along to the coast by the first boat.

The crates in the hold, the trade goods for the natives, no doubt.

On the ship he noted a tension among many of the remaining men...More an eagerness than fear of the strange coast before them…

They know more, all of them, than I do...He realized. They've been told and accepted whatever payment Peckingpaugh offered.

And they're willing to do whatever's necessary to have that payment…

...

The longboat returns, considerably lighter...The second boat also, but now bearing human cargo.

Bevis, shaking head as he sees the boat bares several black women in colorful native garb, a large and stately man in colorful robe, scowling angrily, and several young children, one naked, the others well dressed…

All in chains…

He eyes several crewmen who return his look...Level and cold…

I've nary a friend on this ship, now, he realizes…

…

"See our guests to their quarters..." the Captain orders two of the men, who urge the now terrified women along, the stately man grimly eyeing the Captain a long moment, and the Captain returning his stare...The children, frightened, at least one a girl, Bevis realizes.

"Captain!" he calls, pressing forward.

"Bevis." the Captain faces him. "You're relieved. Well done. Go below, I'll speak with you later."

"Captain...Who are these 'guests' and why are they in chains?"

"Mr. Bevis. Go below and I will call you to my quarters later. Now go or you might join these people in chains."

Bevis, frowning...Salutes and heads to the hatch…

"Don't make trouble, Bevis...The Captain has his reasons." one sailor hisses to him.

…

"Bevis...Have a seat..." Peckingpaugh waves the Chief Officer to a seat, which Bevis takes.

"Captain...Who are these people we've taken aboard, why are they in chains?"

"Gifts, Bevis...The royal family of a rival chieftain. Given to me by my friend the Chief here in return for the weapons we supplied him just in time, thanks to your skill in part, to surprise said rival during a season when war is generally not carried out here among the natives. Along with all the ivory we can haul for as many voyages as we can make."

"Gifts...And what is to be done with them?"

"They're not to be sold, Bevis. If that's your concern..." Peckingpaugh smiles. "They're personal gifts to me and I intend to pass them on to the royal governor of Massachusetts on our return. As a token of esteem and gratitude for the repeal of the Stamp Act by order of Parliament. Yes, Bevis, I've had word that nearly all taxes on our colonies are to be repealed."

"I suppose that's fine...But, sir."

"It's not fine, Bevis! You fool!" the Captain slams a hand down on desk. "The Parliament is merely showing what it can do...Tax us to death or take the foot off our throat! We still get no representatives and we still have charters repealed and rights denied...Don't you see this is a cheap and shabby trick and an insult, hoping our greed will outweigh our love for our liberties as Englishmen, hell...As men!"

"As these poor wretches must know..."

"Oh, blow it out your arse, Bevis. I'm not giving these heathen to the governor without a reason. I want him implicated in smuggling. Proof that the Crown's men are corrupt and unworthy. Proof to our people if not the damned Parliament that we need to rule ourselves and rid ourselves of the corrupt lackeys of the King...And there's more Bevis..."

"There are other ways, give him a gift of your ivory..."

"Nonsense...Nothing obvious or able to fire the crowd in that! But lovely native women, an angry, proud chief or whatever the damned bastard is, their children...Very tangible and loud symbols, yes. But as to the more...Bevis, the chief here has agreed to let us obtain saltpeter and store it here, ship it home as we can, in secret. Bevis, we can make the gunpowder we'll need to fight the British, we can't do it without saltpeter."

"That's fine, sir. Wonderful, perhaps. But the chief has enslaved his enemy and given him to you. He'll sell more of the captives into slavery..."

"Oh, doubtless. But I won't profit by them. I've no desire to handle slaves, this is one special matter and one only."

"But you are helping him to enslave thousands and the other thousands he'll conquer with your guns...And this poor family."

Slam on desk of the captain's wig, leaving him bald. "Bevis!...For the love of God, think of your country and people! We must have gunpowder to fight! And this move against the governor will disrupt the government, allow us to get that saltpeter to the colonies faster. All for a few people who probably lived off the misery of others in their own turn. Be reasonable, man!"

"I maintain there are other ways, Captain. Perhaps the damage is done here and can't be repaired regards the guns, but we could spare this family. Let me take them back, far up the coast."

"Word would spread of their release, Bevis…The chief would refuse to aid us and inform the British. He stands to make a profit either way. Besides, the father is a man of great fighting skill, in these climes. He'll never settle for a quiet exile. No, Bevis. You can sit away and let matters take their course or you can report what's been done to the Crown and betray your country and your shipmates. I should say if you betray us, I can't guarantee your safety aboard the Peckingpaugh. The men are patriots and well paid to be so, a dangerous combination."

"It's inhumane to do this to these people. Treat them as pawns."

"We're all pawns in this world, Bevis, if we don't choose the rules of the Game. You have your chance to choose the rules you'll follow...And to be a patriot in support of your country. Well?" stern eyes upon him.

…

"He didn't openly defy the Captain, it wouldn't have helped. He accepted, claimed to, rather, the Captain's actions and promised not to reveal them to the British. That at least he could do in good conscience." Ms. Hempstead noted.

"My great-great-etc grandfather Urius Bevis..." Bevis shook head. "That's amazing. But what happened? And you were one of the wives of the chief…?"

"No..." wan smile. "I was the youngest daughter, five years old. Terrified out of my wits after our fortess castle in the hills was blasted open by those guns and we were taken, my father's army crushed. My mother was already dead, killed in the fighting..." she sighed.

"The next day, on the ship, Captain Peckingpaugh kept a promise to your ancestor and let him visit us and see we were properly fed. As it wasn't a standard slaver, we were not shackled up in those narrow coffins some were, we were held in a proper cell, probably fed as well as the crew...Perhaps better, given Chief Officer Bevis." smile. "But he could see we were slaves and we could see it as well...My father was nearly mad with impotent rage, vowing death to all and sundry, cursing his own warriors for being too weak to resist...My stepmothers, terrified of these strange but infamous white men, knowing they were no longer royal queens but now headed to that horrifying strange land of the white devils from hell to be used as slaves and never to return, were torn between numb paralysis and sheer fear. None sought to comfort us children...Except your ancestor, Chief Officer Bevis…" fond smile.

"He played with us, taught us a few words in English, even a bit of reading. I was terrified of him at first but within an hour I was eagerly playing with him over a bit of hard biscuit on the floor that we played with, kicking it about the cell till my father in his locked off section ordered me to be quiet, cursing the white devil who was stealing my soul. Only that I wasn't worth a fair price, or he've sold me off to the traders in his lands."

"On the third day at sea, he was to be transferred to other duties…I was desperate and tried all I could to make him see I wanted to go with him, even if it meant as some sort of servant. My father heard and cursed me again, as a coward, and warned me Bevis was just another devil, playing with me to make me disgrace our family. That night, Bevis came and freed all of us from our shackles and to a boat which he loaded us into to sail home. Soon as he'd indicated to my father which way to head for home, my father strangled him and threw his body overboard." she eyed Bevis. "We were captured the next day, my father knowing nothing of how to sail or properly row a boat and I never saw home again."


	3. Chapter 3

The Twilight Zone: "Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Summary: The TZ episode featuring the rather eccentric but lovable Mr. Bevis gets a bit of tweaking…But it's still Orson Bean (worth looking up his work on YT) in the character role.

Disclaimer: He may be dead but only Rod Sterling owns "Twilight Zone" and no copyright infringement intended.

"Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Part III…

The neighborhood bar where Mr. Bevis' self-proclaimed guardian angel, one Aurora Winifred Hempstead of West Africa and New Haven, Connecticut in her lifetime, and the world since, had just told him a part of her remarkable story and her connection to his family…

Leaving him both stunned and appalled…

"You can't have spent all this time guarding my family?" he notes, concerned.

"Well, only since my death in childbirth at twenty-eight…" she replies, rather touched by his concern. "But as I told you, it was my own choice and my pleasure, honestly."

"You also said it was your duty." He points out. "I understand my ancestor Urius helped you but I feel terrible to think you've spent your afterlife watching over us in recompense."

"Not at all…I've had a wonderful time. Your family's been my anchor to the world, Mr. Bevis, but I've not been limited to them, hovering about every moment of every day. I assure you, I'm quite free."

"Well…Good…" Bevis sighs. Then regards her… "You've really been keeping tabs on all my family since…"

"1793…I took a year learning the angel trade." She smiles. "But not just them, I've seen the Bevis line all the way back to their beginnings back in France when they split off as an independent family in 1297. It's quite a history, Mr. Bevis. A remarkable and, in my opinion, poorly recompensed or remembered, history."

"You've traveled back in time? Angels can do that?"

"Eternity is fluid, Mr. Bevis…And it's necessary to know the ones you're working with, to fully understand their behavior. Though I still sometimes have great difficulty grasping yours…" winsome smile, sip at ale mug. "…On some matters. On the major ones, you all are remarkably consistent."

"Oh? In what way, Miss Hempstead?"

"Courage, Mr. Bevis…Not the loud, blustery kind…The simple, quiet courage of good people who understand instinctively the right thing to do. All Bevis seem to possess it, which I assure you is remarkable." She raises mug. "To you and yours, James W. B. Bevis…The world should realize what it has in people like you." Fond tone.

"I think that's a bit much, Miss Hempstead. I'm sure we have some black sheep…I know I'm something of a disappointment to my family. They hoped for more from me, I'm sure, even if they never say so."

"Well, you do have quite a heritage to live up to…But I don't think they're disappointed. I'd say that, like me, they're waiting for you to spring from your cocoon and seize the day."

"Well…" sheepish tone from Mr. Bevis… "That won't be today."

"Perhaps not but perhaps…" she beams.

"But what about your own family, Miss Hempstead…Or is/was it Mrs…?"

"It was Mrs, for a time, Mr. Bevis. I was eventually sold by the governor Captain Peckingpaugh presented me to, and eventually, after some unhappy time, bought by a young black man named Hempstead who purchased a wife in me, freeing me immediately."

"Oh…I trust it was…"

"I was not completely unhappy nor terribly happy with him. He was a decent man by his lights, but rough and brutal at times, made so by his own sufferings as a slave and as a free black man trying to survive in colonial Massachusetts. He fought in the Revolutionary War, but on the British side, as they were the ones who freed him after burning his master's plantation in Virginia. He felt they were the ones dealing fairly with our kind and the natives, so he pledged his troth to King and country…British country. Fortunately, records on black volunteer soldiers in the British forces were not well kept then and he managed to escape death and capture and found himself in New Haven at the end of the war. He saw me one day, decided I suited him, and made an offer to my then master, a rather obnoxious elderly schoolteacher, and bought me. Sadly for him he did so in 1782, a year before slavery was ended in Massachusetts." Shrug. "That did not sit well with him and he blamed me for costing him a good deal of his savings, with a tiny amount of justice given I was educated enough to read and knew of the court battles to free us in the state. I was very anxious to escape the attentions of my master at the time and perhaps I exaggerated my affection for and attraction to Mr. Hempstead. But I did my best to be a good wife to him for nine years and bore him two sons whom I loved dearly. One died young, of smallpox, the other lived to be a man, though I died before he was quite seven…"

"And no one else…?"

"I would not say that, Mr. Bevis…" quiet smile. "Though I would point out your own love life hasn't been exactly…Stellar."

"Well, I've never been exactly the type to appeal to women…I mean, I guess I'm not hideous…But I think they find me a bit…"

"Difficult and hard to understand?"

"…of a failure…I meant to say." He shrugs. "I don't blame them for thinking so. But I never wanted to be a great success, just to do well enough to do the things I like to do."

"Which can be difficult when there's no job, savings, trust fund…And relatives lack much in the way of loanable or gift cash?" she smiles.

"Well, I've always gotten by…And it has been easier being alone to do so…"

"Never met anyone you'd sacrifice your freedom for, eh?" smile.

"I suppose not…I thought I had, once or twice before. But they didn't really like me, just some image of me they had made in their imaginations. When they saw I wasn't going to fit into their views…I couldn't give up all the things I love…They got fed up and left." He shrugs. "They're happy now with guys who think as they do. I don't hold it against them, I'm glad they're happy, they'd've been miserable with me…And probably me with them." Wan smile to her sudden chuckle.

"Sorry, Mr. Bevis…" she put a hand on his.

"Say…I feel that." He notes. "Should I?"

"Shouldn't you?" she shrugs. "Perception is all in the mind, after all."

"That's true…You know I read a fascinating article in 'Psychology Today'…"

"Yes, it was. I read it too." She smiles. "Over your shoulder, in the Public Library last Saturday. I hope you don't mind?"

"No, not at all…So you liked it too?"

"It was very…Perceptive." She chuckles. "Sorry…I tend to make bad jokes."

"Not at all…A very good one, very perceptive." He chuckles.

Ed regarding his solo customer in booth, chuckling…

Definitely gotta cut him back if he asks for another, poor schnook.

"So…Married nine years, not altogether happy…But do they allow you…I mean, in the afterlife?"

"To date? Marry?" she grins.

"I have read that bit about 'there is no marriage nor giving in marriage in Heaven' or something to that effect."

"There's no legal need for it. But people do 'get together' as they say." Quiet smile.

"You? Oh, sorry…That's far too personal…My apologies." Bevis, sheepishly.

"I've had my moments, Mr. Bevis." Smile. "Now, as to you and my purpose in coming…As I said, to improve the quality of your life…"

"I hate to put you out, Mrs. Hempstead. Really , I'll manage."

"I hate to contradict you, Mr. Bevis…But it's been my experience you don't…Not without me. Duck!" she cried as a large light fixture above them came crashing down.

And immediately to an already stunned Bevis, reappeared back in its place…

"A good call, based on my observation of the loose screws and a reset, not a vainglorious demonstration of my abilities, I assure you, Mr. Bevis." Mrs. Hempstead notes, anxiously. "You all right?"

…


	4. Chapter 4

The Twilight Zone: "Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Summary: The TZ episode featuring the rather eccentric but lovable Mr. Bevis gets a bit of tweaking…But it's still Orson Bean (worth looking up his work on YT) in the character role.

Disclaimer: He may be dead but only Rod Sterling owns "Twilight Zone" and no copyright infringement intended.

"Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Part IV…

A still astounded Mr. Bevis regards his self-proclaimed guardian angel, young Mrs. Hempstead, visible only to him currently, as they sit in the booth at his neighborhood bar…

"I can't believe it." He shakes head.

"You're not delusional, I assure you, Mr. Bevis." Her anxious reply. "Oh, I didn't come to disturb you, I'm so sorry if I did." Worried, she puts hand on his arm.

"No, no…" he shrugs. "I just can't help thinking, what a waste, all this care for my family…When so many others…" sigh.

"You haven't exactly been blessed with wealth, power, or the attentions of beautiful women, Mr. Bevis. I'd say my interventions have been rather minimal compared to what could be done. And as for others, those who've needed or could be helped by a guardian, have them. But there's only so much we can do, given the complexity of the mortal world…"

"Meaning if you did too much, you could interfere with others, right?" he eyes her. "I've read time travel stories and that one by HG Wells about the man doing miracles and what happens if you change too much…"

"The HG Wells one was neat." She beams. "Yes, that's quite right. Too much intervention can be as bad as too little…Or even far worse. We're trained and rather carefully supervised to be mindful of that. And you'd be surprised how many people receive the help they need when they need it…Though it's not always wanted or welcome."

"Yet here you are…I mean, yes I had a bad run of luck today but…It wasn't the worst that could happen." He notes. "By the way, thank you for…Oh…" he realizes. "It could…It would have been much worse, couldn't it? The car?"

"Would've hit a child and killed her. And injured several people in another car and done serious damage to a storefront." She nods.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Hempstead. And you just saved my life, on top of that."

"You're very welcome, Mr. Bevis. Glad I could be of assistance." Beam.

"But really…You've done so much, for me alone, not to mention what you've surely done for my family…? I can't see how…"

"It's my pleasure, James…If I may…" smile. "And my choice, don't fret…This is no onerous duty for me. And as I told you, I am quite free and by no means limited to following you about. Though today…A certain part of me chooses to spend a bit of time with you." Sheepish grin. "Frankly? This is a treat I'm granting myself…A slight, though not serious, bending of the rules…"

"You certainly may…And thanks. But I can think of many things to do in this world than spend a day saving me and trying to make me feel better."

"And I've done them…I exist on a different plane, James. I can do more than just be here with you, though I assure you I am focusing on the here and now right now."

"Well…I'm glad to hear you're not just helping me. Can you really experience other things, other situations at the same time?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes…But it's…How can I explain it?...Staggered so as not to come crowding in all at once. But this morning I was in Paris shopping, where I got this rather nice hat." She beams, indicating hat.

"It is rather nice." He smiles. "So…You can take physical form? You said you shopped for it?"

"Hmmn…It's a little draining but yes…Sometimes physicality is necessary. It's a little limiting though."

"Amazing. So I've encountered angels in the flesh before, you think?"

"You've encountered me before, James." She smiles. "In the flesh. Though not in this form."

He eyes her.

"You were four and the cutest thing…I was playing with the neighborhood girls and we played together for an hour. I was six? It's fine if you don't remember…"

"That was you…" he stares. "I nearly fell off the high slide and you grabbed me, I remember. And that name…Aury…It was you."

"Yeah." She grins. "Sometimes physicality is necessary…"

"I wanted my mother to meet you. You weren't there later or the next day."

"I had to go…I couldn't've explained my presence easily."

"And you've been doing this for my family since Urius was killed?"

"I'm very fond of the Bevis family, James." She smiles. "Yes…But as I said it's not been my sole occupation."

"You must be a magnificent creature…Sorry…Person…An angel. I'm only seeing a tiny part of what you really are, aren't I?" he shakes head.

"That's sweet, James, thank you." Beam. "Well, I guess there is a lot to me. One day, you'll understand it and experience it, I'm certain. As so many Bevises do."

"Me?" he blinks.

"We have great hopes for you, James." Smile. "My superiors see you as executive level potential in angeldom."

"Wow."

"But please don't take that as a reason to rush from this world…" she adds, nervous. "It's still a wonderful and necessary experience, to fully live your span in this dimension, however long or short it may be. And it won't all be bad."

"No, not at all. I love it here." He smiles. "I may have some trouble but…I get by."

"So you do…But James, I'm here to try and make your time here a little better…Help you out of your cocoon, so to speak…It's time you claimed your birthright as a Bevis."

…


	5. Chapter 5

The Twilight Zone: "Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Summary: The TZ episode featuring the rather eccentric but lovable Mr. Bevis gets a bit of tweaking…But it's still Orson Bean (worth looking up his work on YT) in the character role.

Disclaimer: He may be dead but only Rod Sterling owns "Twilight Zone" and no copyright infringement intended.

"Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Part V…

"There…" Mrs. Hempstead notes, pointing to a portrait materialized in thin air just outside their booth in Mr. Bevis' favored neighborhood bar…Bevis staring to see an image of himself in heavy robes and a feathered grand hat rather more like a helmet. "Ferdinand Bevis de la Magellan…A nephew of the great navigator Magellan who followed in his footsteps but sought to explore Mexico and Central America. He learned of the devastation caused by Hernando Cortes by war and disease and attempted to ban further exploration until more was known of the diseases wiping out the natives and was murdered by local officials."

"Whoa…" Bevis blinks. "I'd no idea…"

"There's much more, Mr. Bevis…" Mrs. Hempstead puts up a hand…Another portrait appearing immediately in place of the first as he sits back, a bit apologetically. A monk in rough brown robes, smiling benevolently. "Friar Mendez Bevis, he was sent by the Church to China in 1555 following the Portuguese explorers and traders to convert the people. There he learned of China's great civilization including their treatment of smallpox by inoculation and sought to bring back his knowledge to Europe. He was condemned by the Church for claiming the Chinese had no need of salvation and the inoculation method he'd tried to demonstrate was denounced as the work of the devil…" sigh.

"Ahead of his time but not so good for him, huh?"

"They burnt him at the stake."

"Ouch."

"Sir Francis Bevis, a branch of the family who'd emigrated to England, 1618…" Mrs. Hempstead notes. "He attempted to negotiate a fair and equitable treaty with the Indians at the new Jamestown colony. His men resented his attempts to be unbiased and exiled him to the woods where he survived to marry a nice native cousin of Pocahontas and found a family…Who were slaughtered by settlers stealing their food about twenty years later, he along with them when he refused to abandon them."

"Agnes Bevis…Colonial Massachusetts during the 1680s. She taught reading to natives, preached religious and racial toleration, and was hung as a witch." Mrs. Hempstead eyes the portrait of a female Bevis…Perhaps not the most attractive of young women but clearly earnest and determined.

"William Penn Bevis, 1745…" she smiles at the next portrait of a stout young Bevis in Quaker hat. "Designed several great colonial buildings but fell into disrepute as a Quaker who fought for an end to slavery and for social justice for the poor laborer. Shot helping a family escape from slave catchers."

"Colonel James Fenton Bevis, 1863…" eyes portrait of a young man in Union blue. "Killed at the battle of Gettyburg singlehandedly driving off a group of Confederates who'd tried to swing round and take Round Top while the battle at Little Round Top was raging."

"Charles Parnell Bevis, 1870…British branch again." Image of Bevis with muttonchop whiskers and in stove pipe hat. "Fought for Home Rule for Ireland in the 1870-90s and was ruined politically for doing so. But much beloved by the Irish."

"Wilhemina Bevis, 1890…Chicago Suffragette and Labor Rights Reformer…" Large newspaper photo of female Bevis in 19th century dress and spectacles. Again not perhaps the most attractive of women, but clearly fiercely determined yet warm-hearted in the steady gaze of her eyes. "Falsely accused of a role in anarchist bombings, hung."

"There seems to be a pattern here…" Bevis stares.

"You help the defenseless and get killed or ruined, yes." Aurora nods.

"I'm sure a lot of families have such people…I mean who try to do some good."

"Lots. Not as many as yours did." Warm smile. "There's many more, actually but one more for now…You know him."

A Bevis in the fatigues of an early twentieth century marine in photograph…

"Why that's Uncle Louis!" Bevis exclaims…

"Louis Bertram Bevis, Major of Marines, first ashore at Nicaragua in 1916. Broken to private for denouncing corruption among his fellow officers and the US-installed government to Congress in a series of letters. Killed as a private at Chateau-Thierry."

"That was a terrible thing, what they did to him." Bevis sighs. "But my mother said he never lost his pride in standing up for the Nicaraguans and against imperialism." He gives Mrs. Hempstead a rueful look…

"Quite a come-down, to watching over me…" shrug. "I guess the most anyone can say of me is, he never hurt anyone deliberately."

"I hardly think so, Mr. Bevis." Firm tone. "Your story's not begun to be told. It starts today. For the new Mr. Bevis."

"Today?" he stares.

"Right now." She nods. "First, you need to change the image a bit, let people know you're a man to be trusted in. Sorry, but the bow tie has got to go."

His suit suddenly alters to that of a snappy 1960 style, complete with long dark tie, perfectly matched.

…

Bevis eyes himself in the barroom mirror, stunned at the change.

"My bow tie…My suit…"

"Just the surface, James…" an anxious Aurora eyes him. "Nothing fundamental changed. But it does make a difference in how people perceive you. You do want your life to change for the better…?"

"Well…" he eyes himself. "I love my bow. Are you sure it has to go? I mean, I trust your experience and I guess I have made a mess of things…" rueful sigh.

"Not at all, you just need to focus a bit…" encouragingly. "Now that I've got you dressed for a new life, it's time to reset the clock. We need to start this day over, just when it started to go wrong, all right?"

"I…?" he blinks. "You can do that? I'll travel back in time?"

"In a limited way…Soon as we leave this bar. Shall we see how it goes?" she rises from both.

"I guess…" he rose. She offering a hand which he took…

"It'll be fine, James, really." Plaintive look. "You'll be very happy…I'm sure of it."

Ed the bartender looking over to see Mr. Bevis, his new suit unnoticed and unsurprising…It was, for this existence, his usual, after all. But very surprising to see Mr. Bevis offering arm to empty air and holding arm out as if he were escorting someone.

…

"And here we are…" Mrs. Hempstead notes as they appear in Bevis' apartment. Bevis still in his new suit, glancing at himself in living room mirror.

Wait…He turns round to look at his nearly empty home desk.

"Where's my stuffed owl…My models…My books?" he looks round.

"Mr. Bevis…" Aurora sighs. "To fit your new lifestyle, changes have to be made. But all your things are in storage. Though your owl's in your bedroom…" wan smile.

He hurries over to see the owl mounted neatly on a shelf in the bedroom. A few of his many books on shelf.

"I hope you're not angry…" she regards him.

"Uh, no…No…No, really…Not angry…It's just…Well, I know you know what you're doing, Mrs. Hempstead…"

"Thank you, Mr. Bevis." She nods. "Please, just give it a try. I'm sure you'll find you like the results."

"Well, you do seem to have gone to a lot of trouble on my account so…"

"Thanks…Come on…You'll be late for work."

"Oh…Right…It really is this morning?"

"It is. And we should be getting on…"

"Yeah, I'm going hafta run for the bus…" he eyes clock.

"Why not just drive your car?" she asks.

"My Rickenbacker's fixed?" he stares.

"Didn't say that…" quiet smile.

…

Heading out he paused to greet the same small dog he'd patted and hugged earlier. It growled slightly at him and ran off before he could respond.

"What's up with him?" Bevis stares. "He didn't seem to know me."

"You don't interact with him or other stray dogs and cats in this existence, James. But you can get a dog or perhaps find him and take him in later." She notes. "I imagine your landlady would prefer that…" careful look.

"Maybe…I guess she would…But…"

The door down the hall opened and the young woman neighbor he'd greeted in the early morning passed by, not acknowledging him.

"Good morning…" he calls to her, she eyeing him coolly a moment.

"Yes?"

"Just, good morning Eloise."

"Yeah, sure…" she hurries along and goes down the stairs…

"Why is she acting like that? She's never like that." He eyes Mrs. Hempstead.

"Either she saw you…And wasn't too pleased…And that's not like Eloise either. Or I don't say good morning here…" Bevis, shaking head a bit.

"You're a busy fellow." Aurora explains, a bit sheepishly. "And she can't see me. You're right, she's not like that."

"Just with me." He sighs.

"You can fix that later, I'm sure. Just tell her you've been very busy tomorrow morning and start greeting her. Problem solved." Wide, if nervous, smile.

"I guess...Aurora…?"

"Yes, James…" Beam…

"Sorry, Mrs. Hempstead…"

"Oh, Aurora…Or, 'Aury' if you like…Is fine." Warm smile.

"Well, fine…Aury…Am I a total ass here?"

"James. Not at all. If you ask me, she was the rude one…"

Hmmn…He sighs.

Seeing the newsboy eyeing him from the bottom stair of the staircase, he moves to the bannister to slide down…

The boy staring…Then amused…

"Are you nuts, Mister?"

Het…hemn…Aurora coughs…Bevis looking at her.

"Here…You don't slide on bannisters, Mr. Bevis."

"Well, today…I do. Sorry, Aurora." He goes to bannister and hopping on slides down.

The newsboy chuckling… "You're loony, mister."

"A new habit…" Bevis tells him. "I mean to keep it up."

"Your pants are filthy, mister. Ha, ha, ha…" the boy heads off, chuckling.

As he steps out his bundle of newspapers suddenly comes loose, papers scattering…

"Aurora?" Bevis eyes the sheepish Mrs. Hempstead.

"Sorry. He was a very rude boy."

"He didn't know me." Sigh. "Sorry if I ruined your new pants."

"They're fine. But you really shouldn't ride a bannister like that Mr. Bevis. It's not really in keeping with your new lifestyle…" she eyes his look. "…though I suppose you could just wipe it down clean tonight. It was pretty clean in your old life thank to all those rides."

"I…Suppose." He frowns.

"James? Are you annoyed with me?" she eyes him. "I'm only trying to help…Wait, you'll like the next bit, I'm sure." Eager smile.

"No, Aury…I'm not annoyed…Just…" as he goes out the entranceway and down the rooming house stairs to the sidewalk.

Where Mrs. Glannon stands, pulling a few weeds from some planted flowers in a little green space…

"Oh, Mrs. Glannon…About the rent…" he begins. She beaming at him…

"Oh, that's fine, Mr. Bevis. I found it in the mailbox. Three weeks in advance as always. You're such a good tenant, Mr. Bevis. I wish I had a building full of you." She smiles warmly.

Hmmn…He eyes Aurora who gives slight smile…

Well…That is a bit better…

…

"And now the next…" Aurora beams at Bevis as he looks for his Rickenbacker.

"Where's…My car…? My Rickenbacker?" he stares.

"There's your car, James." She points to a sporty little motorcar, very chic, very "Route 66" convertible.

"What? Where's my car?"

"Uh…That is your car." She sighs. "It's very nice…Very popular with young men now. Martin Miller drives one like it on the 'Route 66' television show."

He stares…

"But it's so…Little…"

"I'm told it drives like a dream…Or so young men driving it said, when I was checking opinions."

"You did a survey?" he stares.

"I wanted it to be something special…What successful ambitious young men nowadays drive." she offers, shrugging.

"Tell me you didn't have to buy it?" anxious look.

"Oh, no…Though no one was defrauded, I assure you. Come on and get in, try it out." She urges.

"It's so…Little…" he shakes head. "Sorry…" he eyes her crestfallen face. "Here you go and do something so nice for me…Sorry, Aurora."

"That's fine, James. But, please, try it out. I think you'll like it once you've driven it."

"You've never driven a '26 Rickenbacker."

"I've ridden in one…Many times." She grins. "And yes, I have driven one, today, down the street to that policeman, even if neither of you saw me." Impish chuckle.

He regarding her smile.

"Just try it…" she urges. "I think it suits you."

…

…


	6. Chapter 6

The Twilight Zone: "Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Summary: The TZ episode featuring the rather eccentric but lovable Mr. Bevis gets a bit of tweaking…But it's still Orson Bean (worth looking up his work on YT) in the character role.

Disclaimer: He may be dead but only Rod Sterling owns "Twilight Zone" and no copyright infringement intended.

"Mr. Bevis Redux…"

Part VI…

"Hey, guys!" Bevis calls to the neighborhood children in the street, they cautiously eyeing him. He waves at them but they remain in place, glancing at each other…

"Don't they know me? I play with them every day…" he turns to a rather worriedly sheepish Aurora.

"I see…" he sighs. "Not in this existence."

"You're a busy person, maybe once you've settled in you can win them over." She suggests. "Though, after all, James, it is a little odd in any existence for a grown man to play with children."

"I just throw a ball around and say hi, how are you. No one's ever…Well…" he eyes her look. "Maybe a few people look at me like I'm a little cracked but…"

"It shouldn't be that way, I'm sorry, James." Aurora, carefully. "But you'll find some way to help them."

"You mean an adult, sensible way...From a safe distance? Not getting to know them, care about them. Writing checks, maybe?" hard stare… "Is that what you mean?"

She wilts a bit at his look...He closing his eyes, sighing...

The ball the kids were playing with, tossed ineptly by one of the smallest ones, struck the car's side.

The kids eyeing each other, the small boy looking rather terrified…As Bevis emerges from the car.

"It's ok, it's fine. No harm done." Bevis calls, with smile. The little boy nervously looking to the others but finally smiling back to Bevis. Mr. Bevis tosses the ball to him.

"Thank you, sir. Sorry." The boy calls.

"It's Jim. Again no problem, but try shooting a little more underhand to start till you get your aim going. Maybe tonight we can practice that, huh?"

"Yeah…" the boy smiles. "Thanks, Jim."

The others eyeing each other, calling the boy, Timmy, back.

"See…Not so bad…" Aurora notes, carefully, anxiously. "They're just not used to you being so friendly. You can find a way back into their lives, here."

"I guess it's not…" shrug. "I hate to think I was standoffish to them before."

"You might have to be a little…People could accept your old self playing around with kids, they knew you pretty…The new you, a busy bachelor, they don't know so well? They might find just a bit too strange." She cautions. "Just saying, a little restraint…Till you get to know them and they get to know you again."

"But I did know them…And they did know me…" shake of head. "Don't I have any friends here? I always hated seeing people walk right past each other, no one acknowledging the other's existence. Now I'm one of those people?"

"I'm sure you can adjust things…James, it's just a matter of balance." She pleads. He stares at her sad face a long moment.

"Ok, ok…I'll try…" he shrugs. She offering grateful pat…

…

The new car did start rather more smoothly, though without that wonderful old clank and vibration…Though without the old clutch and stick, Mr. Bevis was somewhat at a loss for a moment as to how to shift gears.

"I believe it's an automatic transmission, James. A very nice invention from what I've seen." Mrs. Hempstead notes, pointing to the shifting level. "But to shift…Whoa!" as the car lurched forward suddenly.

"Sorry…I just realized it was an automatic…You ok?"

"Not a problem." She shakes head, adjusting her cunning little Parisian hat. "What do you think?" eagerly. "You drive it very well."

"Well…I guess it's very sporty…" he tries, diplomatically.

"The Rickenbacker was very nice in its way but really isn't suited to this existence, James." She urges, gently. "Please, just give this a chance?"

"Of course…It is very kind of you to go to all this trouble for me, Aury. More than kind..." thoughtful tone.

"Thanks…" beam, flash of sparkling teeth. "Though really it's nothing. We'd best get you to your office now. You don't want to be late."

…

"Bevis." Nod from a well-dressed executive in the building housing Mr. Bevis' lately former but once again current employer, the Peckingpaugh Corporation.

"Hi, Stuart." He nods, rather eagerly…Surprising the man who shakes head after Bevis passes.

"So I'm friends with Stuart Parkman?" he hisses to Aurora as they waited by an elevator, she having confirmed her continued invisibility to all but he. "The man always seemed to find me ridiculous. Not that it ever bothered me."

"Not exactly 'friends'…Acquaintances…Mr. Parkman's a rising man at his firm and you're another. You talk occasionally about business, that sort of thing." Aurora notes.

"Sounds incredibly boring…" Mr. Bevis stares back at Parkman now entering his office complex. "But then, to be fair, I always did find him a little dull and frankly, a little petty. Much too obsessed with work and getting ahead."

"Well, people like that can be useful to know…" Aurora tries.

"I guess. But I like to meet all kinds of people."

"That's a understatement…" fond smile as he regards her. A questioning look...Which she tries to avoid...

…

He enters the main office of Peckingpaugh Corporation…No one looking up as the various workers, just arrived, were setting up for the day.

Well, for once, two minutes early…He eyed the clock over the door…

"Hey, fellas…!" cheery call as he made his way to his…Yikes! Desk.

No one offering more than a surprised grunt…

The desk was bare but for the essential tools of a purposeful and ambitious accountant…

Neatly arranged ledger book, calculator…Pens…Calendar carefully set to today's date.

"But where's Ada's engine?" he looks at Aurora. "I spent five months building that…"

"James…You never built it in this existence. You haven't time for such things."

"What?"

"Mr. Bevis, Mr. Peckingpaugh wants to see you immediately." A rather coolly efficient Elinor spoke up from behind them. Bevis turned to face her, she regarding him with none of the compassion or concern of the previous encounter.

"Oh…Is it bad? The sack?" he asks.

"I would hardly know, Mr. Bevis. But I doubt it given how he praises your work." Cool tone. The …and how you suck up…merely coolly implied.

Bevis, a bit nonplused by her tone…And by Aurora's sudden flash of anger…

Don't…His look pleads. Please…?

Fine…Hers, calming…

"Bevis!" Peckingpaugh's booming voice from up at the front of the office… "Come up here, my boy!" cheery wave.

"Mr. Peckingpaugh…" Bevis hurries up to the old man.

Aurora, instinctively glaring at the splitting image of the man who'd taken her and her family into bondage…But repressing her urge to revenge.

Not worth condemning myself for, especially just now…

And he…His ancestor… Didn't kill my mother…Nor would Father have behaved any kinder toward Captain Peckingpaugh's friend the Chief of the Ngere South than the Chief had.

"Everyone, a moment…Everyone, please…Attention…" Peckingpaugh, startling Bevis by putting an arm around his shoulder. "I want to recognize my finest employee, James Bevis, our hardest worker…" beam. "An example to us all, a man totally focused on his work."

The faint applause made echoed by various rolls of eyes and smirks among the staff…

"I want you all to know that in appreciation of his efforts, I'm giving Mr. Bevis, at his fourteenth month with us, a ten dollar a week raise! Learn from this man, people! He's a boy who's going places! Bevis, congratulations!" shaking a nervous hand.

Uhhh…"Thanks very much, Mr. Peckingpaugh. I guess I should get back to work."

"Now that's what I like to hear…Carry on, Mr. Bevis." Peckingpaugh nods, beaming again, and turns for his office door, this time not crashing into it.

"Thanks…" hiss to Aurora…

"My superiors understand my feelings, but once was pushing it…" she shrugs.

He takes his seat and looks round…

No one offering a greeting or even a wan smile…

Great…

I'm the despised office suck-up…

Well, time to show them I'm not quite Peterson Peckingpaugh's whipped poodle…He rises.

Aurora eyeing him nervously…

James…?

"I need some air. I'll be back." He tells Elinor who shrugs at him.

"Don't let me stop ya." Offhand shrug.

…

Out of the office, Aurora anxiously following him as Bevis hurriedly makes for elevator…

"James, where are you going?"

"I've got to get out, Aury…Get some air…I'm choking in this suit…" he sighs.

"James, please don't run from me…" she begs as he enters elevator, doors closing.

She appearing beside him immediately in the elevator to his sigh…

"Aurora…Mrs. Hempstead…I don't want to be rude…"

"Oh, James, I'm sorry…But please…I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I know it's not your fault." he nods. "I was worried for a moment but I believe you're not evil or trying to trick me, lie to me. I believe you wanted to help me. But…" he pauses as the doors open and he hurries across the building's foyer to the main entrance, exiting and hurrying down the stairs, she keeping right up with him till he halts on the sidewalk, facing her.

"…everything you've tried to do…" he eyes her stricken face.

"I know…I know…I just hoped so…" she sighs, tears running now.

"Oh, don't cry, Aury…Please." He patted her. Various passersby staring at the man in business suit patting empty air.

"You meant well, but…This isn't me…Not the way I am, inside. I can't be this sort of success, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I guess I'm just a failure…Not a hero like my ancestors…Just a plain eccentric failure. I get you wanted me to take hold and be like them. But…I don't think I can live any other way…"

"James…" she stares.

"I'm truly sorry…Truly. Aurora, I appreciate all you did to build me up a little but…"

"Oh…James…" she sobs, suddenly. Tears glistening on her lovely face...

"Sorry…" she puts up a hand at his distraught face, wan smile. "You'd think a royal princess would bear up a little better, especially a one turned guardian angel. My father, murderous brutal bastard that he was, would be so disappointed."

"Good." Bevis nods to her teary smile. "I'm glad you're nothing like him."

"Not entirely…" sigh. "Though even as an angel I haven't forgotten his ruthlessness. I've some in me, I'm afraid."

"I surely haven't seen it…" he smiles. "Aurora, you're as beautiful as your name and that's true of your soul or spirit as what you're showing me."

"You haven't been aware of it…James." Sad sigh. "But in my way, within the constraints of my position as a guardian, your guardian…I have been ruthless, with you. Though I was worse in life."

"You?"

"I told you I played up a bit to poor John Hempstead to get him to free me. I did try to be a good wife but I made his life rather hard…I was a princess, after all, and I expected him to acknowledge it, in some ways. Not easy for a laboring free black man who'd never known women or tenderness or even ample food on the table or an army of servants to serve it…And then I put him and our children in danger."

"Really? How?"

"John was at risk, being a man who'd fought for the Brits, as I told you. He saw no future in fleeing with them when they abandoned the Colonies but lived in fear that one day something might trip him up and expose him to the Americans. One day I nearly became that something. I'd won some fame by publishing a few poems about my memories of my family and our life then, what fragments I could dredge up, and my new life here…Well, in New Haven."

"Oh, like that Phyllis Wheatley…"

"Overrated…" Aurora frowns. "Sorry, I've had some tussles with Phyl before and after death, she's tried to dismiss my work as derivative from the Roman poets…Said I copied out of Ovid…And even that I faked some of my memories."

"She did…?"

"I was only twelve when I was first published…My master, that schoolmaster I mentioned, taught me to read and write, then when I showed what I could do, gave me out as a prodigy, which I was, rather." Coy smile. "I might have borrowed a little but no more than any other…Including Ms. Wheatley. Shakespeare took a lot from Marlowe, you know."

"He did, yes…Wow. Can I read some of your work? Sometime."

"Of course…I've gotten better with age and experience though, if I say so myself." Smile.

"Anyway, I had a bit of fame and John was fearful his past might come up, so he ordered me to stop writing and especially to stop sending poems to be published. He burnt up a pile of them one night and I nearly killed him in bed that night, with the fireplace spit. But I relented, which is one reason I'm here now…" smile.

"You've a kind heart, Aury."

"Well, I wish it were so, James. You see I found a way to truly put fear into his heart whilst doing good of a sort…And I needed him alive to shield me as a simple free black wife and mother…Keep the authorities off-guard." pause.

"And a certain young fellow, son of a Quaker who'd been killed helping some to freedom told me it would be poor payment to John and to God for my freedom." She eyes him.

Bevis stares…

"The second Mr. Bevis I encountered, last in my mortal life…" she grins. "He wasn't in the portrait list I showed you, he was son to that Quaker I did, but no one ever did his portrait. And as courageous, like a true Bevis. Worst of all, to the serenity of a young unhappy wife's mind…He was the image of the man who'd saved me, Chief Officer Bevis, my first and truest love." Fond smile, then raises hand. "We did nothing truly wrong…He was married as was I…And the times spoke strongly against us ever being together. But I loved him and I would have done anything for him…At the risk of my life, my husband's, my children…As I did." She looks down at her rather nice shoes from a New York City emporium…

"William Mathias Bevis followed in his father's footsteps, but in more organized fashion, with my help. We ran slaves up the Underground to Canada, he going South to lead them out, anyway possible, and I, with other brave friends, running various stations on the way North. Naturally, when John learned of it, as he eventually did, he was furious in his rage, sure I would take him and his surviving son to Perdition with me. Naturally, he blamed William, just as my father blamed Chief Officer , for stealing me from him. But no one ever stole me or my heart…I gave it, freely, of my own choosing." Stern look.

"He betrayed Will and me, but as part of the price to the slavecatchers, I was left free, just a silly black dupe of a radical Quaker abolitionist, not worth the bother, and Will was murdered, like his father." Aurora sighs. "I wanted to die and I did, with some help from John who could not forgive my betrayal. He'd saved me to save himself…And his son, to be fair to him, as I try to always be. But he could not forgive and one night, drunk, he shot me, four months into a pregnancy he'd raped me into."

"Aurora…"

"Just in case you'd still wondered why I should spend time on you and yours, though I maintain as before that it's no burden nor has stopped me from delighting in the changing world." Smile.

"But that's not the story of my truest ruthlessness, James…That lies with you." She eyes him. "James, I've not been trying to make you a success, 'build you up'. I've been knocking you down, my darling. Oh, I'm so ashamed, James…But I couldn't let this happen again. I wanted you to fail, not succeed."

He blinks…What?

"This…Minor success…A little advancement, a few nice things, a secure middling bit of a life…That was only my last hope, that today, after what'd happened you might view it with relief as a step up…Not the quiet, ordinary life it would have been…" sigh. "It was my last chance...And I see now I've failed. And there's worse..." she pauses.

"I did a terrible...Well, not to me, frankly, but to my superiors, thing, James. I altered your existence. Your previous existence..."

"You mean...All this? Or…?" long stare. "My old life...It wasn't what I remember, you're saying? Originally? You mean you changed it? Without my knowing?"

"You weren't quite as ineffectual in your original life, James." sigh. "You're still a genius at math but I deflected you from your true path. You were meant to be a rather brilliant if quite eccentric professor of mathematics. But unfortunately, from your point of view, you were asked to enter college administration, and after much badgering you accepted it was your duty as you always do and you became a dean...The youngest dean at Harvard." wan smile.

"Harvard? Me?" he stares. "And you prevented that...Aurora? Why?"

"To save you, James...Just once, I wanted to save you." she sighs. "You see it didn't end there...A certain Southern governor decided to try and find a northerner, a liberal of sorts...But a man he thought he could control...A weak man...To be president of his state university. He knew Black people would soon be trying to enter that university, backed with federal support. And he believed a northern liberal president of the state university who would provide various 'sound' reasons why it was a bad idea and not wise, etc, etc, would be an excellent cover for his racist views, allow him a way to stop the integration without exposing himself."

"Me?" Bevis eyes her.

"He'd met several northern deans, he thought he'd sized you up as the most easily intimidated, the fool." scornful tone. "As if a Bevis could ever be cowed by a pig like that."

"Aurora?" he smiles at her, shaking head.

"I'm an angel, not a saint, James...I'd've thought that was obvious." her wan smile back.

"So I became president of a southern state university and some black students applied…?"

"And you defied the governor and the usual howling mobs of bigots and supported them...Called in federal help." Aurora nods.

"Didn't end well?"

"The governor made calls to certain 'friends' in a certain 'organization'..." she notes. "You were assassinated."

"What?"

"Shot through the head, dead...The governor claimed it was the understandable, if unpardonable rage of a wronged people… And another Bevis met death, heroically. I had to try and stop it."

"But...If that was supposed to be my fate...Aurora?"

"James...I couldn't bear to see it happen again to you." she sighs. "Just once I wanted to see you live to lead a normal, quiet life. I thought if I kept you from ever been recognized, left you happy with the simple things you loved and just made sure you didn't run into too much hardship, in that simple life, you'd be safe, for one lifetime...And content. And I failed...I should've known it had to fail. So I tried to drag you into this mundane existence, hoped you'd believe it was better."

"Really? My life...The one I remember...Seems pretty quiet if perhaps not normal."

"You're a Bevis, James...The soul of the same man who saved me and countless others, time and time again. Oh, I know I did a dreadful thing and could have altered history a little but James...I love you so. I couldn't see you die like that, again. Not again..." sigh. "But, damn it...Sorry...You're a Bevis and you can't escape your destiny to save others and usually die trying. Though there's a even worse thing..."

"Well, Aurora..." he shakes head. "That's...Beautiful. But you got in trouble, over me...Saving me? That's not right..."

"Not really trouble James...It's just very selfish to do what I did and unprofessional. So I'm out, as a guardian, after this. Not reliable, though they do understand my feelings...Not that it matters now..."

"Oh, they can't..." agitated wave of hands. "Let me speak to someone...They can't do this to do you."

"It's not really a punishment, James. In fact, in a way...It's a reward." wan smile. "But it comes at a cost, potentially...Unless I was able to change things sufficiently to save the last of the Bevises."

"Why, that's right..." he nods. "I am the last of us since Mom's gone. Is that why…?"

"Yes...You never married or had any children any other way, despite that girl in college..." coy smile. "I'd hoped she might be one who could pull you into a life I could keep you safe in but one can't push these things...And now...When you do meet someone...It'll be too late."

"What? Oh, you mean you have to restore the original life…?"

"No, that's gone, thanks to me...I can only reset, not alter what's done. And I have tried...And tried, James. And failed, every time. Till this last final time when I revealed myself in this one last try, getting you involved in saving you, and in doing so made it impossible to do any more resets. Though I see now what my superiors always knew. I can't protect you from yourself. You might be safe, just possibly, in this existence, but you couldn't bear changing yourself so much that you'd be miserable all your life...And that's even worse than..."

"Dying, soon?...So I was going to die, even in my little quiet existence..." Bevis, wan smile. "Was I gonna get hit by a car trying to shoo a dog away from it? Fall down stairs helping someone?"

"In one week, while you're between jobs...An old friend of yours from college will offer you an opportunity to go South with the Freedom Riders. You'll go, of course, and you'll meet a young black woman on the bus, a young widow named Aurora...Whose marriage wasn't very happy."

"You..." he smiles. "But?"

"My reward, James...I get to meet you as a mortal woman...And die with you." she smiles. "Our bus will be firebombed by an angry mob who, when they see you saving me from the flames, and clearly rather fond of me, will be even angrier. It's a horrible death for the last of the Bevises. And when we're found, they won't even know your name, your friend dies on the bus and your name never gets properly logged."

"That doesn't matter. But, you can't go, Aurora. I won't let you. Heck, I won't go." insistent tone.

"James, you'd go even if I could keep you from forgetting all of this. You're a Bevis and a Bevis does his duty. You always have, through countless lifetimes. Not that you're your Uncle Louis, there are other Bevis souls...But you're the one reborn most often, the soul who freed a young girl named 'Aurora', Dawn, in her people's language. Because this world needs you so often. But this is your last stop and rest has been granted you. Both of us, at last."

"I won't remember you? But I have to… I don't mind dying, if I have to...I mean, we all do...But can't I keep the memory of you?"

"Oh, you'll know me, James. You always do." she smiles. "And, when it's all over, you'll remember."

"Then what's wrong? So long as we can get together, after all this..." he smiles. "It sounds like a great reward to me. Thank you, my guardian angel, Mrs. Bevis...Or Hempstead-Bevis, if you prefer...Or keep your last name, I know it's important to..."

"James..." impatient tone.

"Sorry, dear."

…

Memorial in Mississippi...Listing several names and referring to a few unknown but heroic souls tragically killed in 1960 during a Freedom Ride…

Two people standing reading the monument for an instant, a young black woman in an old fashioned but cunning Parisian hat and a dress of early 60s fashion and a young white man, in a rather old fashioned but oddly in fashion by its very eccentricity, suit, naturally complete with bow tie, which his loving companion pauses to straighten before they vanish, off on a new plane to do more of the good the world continues to need so desperately.

Aurora "Dawn" Winifred Hempstead, last princess and survivor of the Nygana clan, freed slave, heroine runner of the Underground Railroad, guardian angel and James W. B. Bevis, unemployed, somewhat ineffectual, but well-loved citizen, lost and forgotten to the world in his tragic and unheralded death, with other brave souls, the last of a long line of quiet heroes and heroines, finding their reward and rest, at last...In the Twilight Zone...


End file.
